T is for Trauma
As Cicero crouched in the shadows near the edge of the courtyard, his scarlet gaze burned with unrelenting focus, following Solana’s every movement. He hadn’t intended to spy on her—not at first—but the moment she emerged from the pub with the rogue, her laughter bright and unguarded, something inside him twisted.
Solana—the Listener, the shadow that once ruled the Brotherhood—laughing? Giggling, even, like a carefree child? It was a sound so foreign to him, so antithetical to the woman he had followed so devoutly, that he felt his mind buckle under the weight of it.
And then he saw her wings unfurl.
Cicero’s breath caught as he watched Solana transform, her Vampire Lord form unfurling in a ripple of shadows. The glowing intensity of her scarlet eyes and the snap of her leathery wings should have filled him with pride—this was the darkness he revered, the true nature of the Listener. But the presence of the rogue clinging to her back like an overzealous shadow threatened to shatter that illusion.
They took to the sky, their laughter mingling with the wind as Solana soared higher, Sera’s delighted whoops echoing into the night. Cicero’s hands trembled at his sides, his nails digging into the frost-dusted ground as he watched the scene unfold like a cruel joke. Solana didn’t belong here—not with these people, not in this world. She belonged in Skyrim, with Sithis, with the Void. With him.
And yet, here she was—soaring above Haven like some winged symbol of Thedas’s lighthearted folly, her laughter carried by the stars as though mocking him. Cicero’s breath quickened, his thoughts spiraling. She had fallen so far, lost herself so completely in this foreign world. The Listener—the blade in the dark—was gone.
No, he thought bitterly. Not gone. She was still there, beneath the laughter, beneath the charade. The Void hadn’t forgotten her, even if she had forgotten it. And if she wouldn’t return willingly, he would drag her back. He would tear away this facade of camaraderie, this illusion of light, until the Listener stood before him once more. He had followed her into this strange, unfamiliar world, believing that together they would find their way back. But now, her betrayal—her laughter, her wings, the rogue clinging to her—it left him with no choice.
---
This realization fueled his resolve, burning hotter with every passing moment. Solana’s flight wasn’t an escape for her—it was a declaration of defiance. She had turned her back on Skyrim, on Sithis, on him. But Cicero would not be denied. If she was determined to stay in this world, then he would do whatever it took to return home, even if it meant forging alliances with those who could give him the power to do so.
And when the time came, when he stood on the threshold of the Void, he would pull her back. He would corrupt the Listener as she had corrupted herself, stripping away the person she pretended to be until there was nothing left but the shadow she had always been.